


just like the first time

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Inhumans (Marvel), Male-Female Friendship, News Media, Politics, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Teasing, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:24:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7195436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by tumblr convos.  Daisy (briefly) undercover as a reporter when Coulson is publicly revealed to be alive.  I'm also aware I write the worst fic summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just like the first time

He knew this day would come, but he didn’t really have a script ready for it.

Some ideas about it, sure, but nothing really fully formed.

“This is a circus,” Talbot says, stepping out the SUV to meet him, walking towards the front of the ATCU headquarters.

“What did you think was going to happen when you put me out in the field?”

“Not this!” he gripes. “I wanted to get Johnson back.  To bring her into the fold again, like you said.” He pauses to glance back at him. “About time you shaved.”

Coulson watches him tug on the edge of his dress uniform, as they turn the corner and sees the gathering of reporters and camera crews on the steps.

“Dammit, Coulson,” he rolls his eyes. “Is it rude for me to say I wished you’d stayed dead?  I hate this stuff.”

“Yes,” he nods at him, appalled, but not for the first time.

“This is on you.  Figure it out. Do that smooth talking thing.”

They walk together up the steps to see Mack already there waiting for them, looking exhausted. 

“I’ve got this,” he reassures Talbot with a smirk.

There’s a momentary period of quiet and then bulbs flash again and the reporters start back up.

“You have a death certificate, dated the day after the Invasion of New York,” one man says above the crowd.  He squints to try and make out his press credentials.

“As you can see, I’m very much alive.”

“Did SHIELD cover up your death, or was it the United States government?”

He turns to address the woman standing on the edges, sees a familiar face from one of Tony Stark’s previous press conferences, and smiles at Ms. Everhart.

 “I’m not much of a conspiracy theorist these days.  We’ve had alien invasions and a robot dictator.  I think between the two-”

“You were working inside SHIELD,” the other reporter cuts back in.  He thinks he can make out a Fox News logo on his lapel pin. “When it was a part of HYDRA-”

“SHIELD was never a part of HYDRA,” he interrupts, and a little too vehemently.

The reporter asking him looks smug, as the crowd settles back down.  Satisfied he was able to get an emotional reaction.

It’s hard to turn off the profiling instinct, even here. He’s not used to it being…personal.  Or public.

He loosens his grip on the podium.

“Are you employed by the ATCU or SHIELD?”  Everhart cuts back in.

“The ATCU.”

“Are you in charge of rounding up Inhumans?  You were a part of the Avengers Initiative, according to the leaked SHIELD files.”

Talbot tries to step in front of the podium to the microphone, but he puts out his hand to block him.

“There are good Inhumans and bad Inhumans,” Coulson interjects. “They’re people, just like us.”

That starts to get them buzzing again.

“Are you speaking from personal experience?” someone calls above them, in the center of the crowd.

That voice. 

He picks it out instantly, tries to calm his nerves as he scans the crowd.  Surely, she wouldn’t-

“Yes,” he says, regathering himself quickly. “I happen to know some very good Inhumans.”

He can finally see her, moving closer in towards the front.  Of all the things…

“Can you confirm that there is someone inside the ATCU that is an advocate for Inhuman rights?”

She says it as she pushes the oversized glasses up the bridge of her nose, holding her tablet close to her as she types.

“No,” Talbot says, leaning over him to get the mic.  “No, he cannot.”

“Me,” he replies, a little too softly.  It sends a murmur through the crowd.

His eyes haven’t left hers, and he faintly tunes in the sound of Talbot cursing under his breath.

“If the ATCU is holding Inhumans,” she goes on, “It would make sense that they should have an advocate.”

“Agreed.  There have already been talks at higher levels of government about establishing rights for Inhumans.”

Talbot grinds his teeth, and makes a motion with his hand, and the microphone is cut.

He watches her smile at him, her teeth tugging on her bottom lip for just a moment, before she turns and disappears back into the crowd.

“Who the hell was that?” Talbot fumes staring over the crowd.  “Get her name, Mackenzie.  We have enough trouble as it is, we don’t need some asinine reporter-“

“Get it yourself.”

He looks over at Mack, smiling at him, and they both walk down the steps and away from Talbot, away from the crowd, held back from them by agents and barriers.

“It was her,” he grins at Coulson.  “Still getting you in trouble.”

There are so many things going through his mind at the moment, but he can’t help but smile to himself.

“I don’t mind.”

 

#

“It’s a little retro, don’t you think?”

He slides into the booth across from her, watching her suck on the end of the straw.

“This place, or my look?” she grins at him coyly.

This is the place he’s been coming for some ‘me’ time.  Banana split milkshakes go better with meds than scotch.

Her look has kind of thrown him off, with the oversize glasses and the very conservative pant suit.  The hair in a neat bun.  If it’s even her hair.

“Do you watch very many press conferences, from the 1970s?” he asks, taking the menu from the waiter, even though he already knows what he wants.

“Apparently, you do,” she shrugs and then sucks from the bottom of the milkshake until it starts to get noisy.

“We usually found ways to avoid those,” he says, scanning around the diner, just to make sure he wasn’t followed.

He grimaces as she finishes it off loudly, then takes particular note of his expression.

“You should get out more, Phil.”

 “You should learn to stay in,” he shoots back.  “Maybe avoid robbing banks?”

“Don’t be condescending.”

The waiter comes back to interrupt, and just as he’s about to order, he says, “You’re banana split milkshake guy, right?”

He purses his lips as Daisy rests her hand on her chin, clearly enjoying the exchange.

“That’s me,” he finally answers, with a curt smile, and hands the menu back to the waiter.

“Wouldn’t take you for a banana split guy,” she says appraisingly, sitting back in the booth.

“What _would_ you take me for?”

“Chocolate,” she says a second later.

“Fair,” he nods, watching her tap the straw against her bottom lip.  “Is that what you were having?”

“Sure was.”

She looks around the room, and it makes him a little nervous.  This whole exchange.  If she’s bored, or, this pretending that everything is normal is getting to him-

“I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that.”

“The press stuff?” he shrugs. “It’s fine.  Talbot…that’s another story.”

“I know.  That’s what I meant.  I probably made things harder for you.”

“I’m still on your side, Daisy.”

She looks troubled for a moment, and he reaches out across the table between them, resting his hand on hers.

“Why are you still doing this?” she says, like she’s so tired and alone.  It pulls on everything that’s left in him.

And that’s what this was.  She was giving him an out. Or trying to.

“Because someone still has to have your back.”

He could’ve said because it was the right thing to do.

But then, he might not get another chance to say this.

 

#

“Seems we’re not in the dark together.”

He has to agree.  Although, there’s a touch of cynicism to it.

She’s tending to him, when all he’s wanted to do is make the world safe for someone like Skye, or Daisy Johnson. People like her.

The ATCU can’t afford him anymore, now that the Watchdogs are openly targeting him.

When he said that out loud at the press conference, he knew what he was doing.

Still doesn’t care.

“Ouch.”

Her eyebrow raises as she holds the antiseptic against his side, while he tries to suck up the pain.  Fingers tender and light as she touches him.

“You’re alive,” she tells him, a little bit stern. “That’s something.”

“You shouldn’t have risked yourself to-“

“Don’t even,” she cuts in, taking his arm carefully off her shoulder, and lowering it once the bandage is in place.

He glances around the large flat.  Abandoned, he guesses. It doesn’t drum up any recollection for him, though.

“How’d you find this place?” he asks her, taking in a deep breath, and letting it go to see if any ribs are cracked.  Seems fine.

“It was HYDRA’s,” she says with a thin smile, then flutters her eyes, tilting her head. “I redecorated.”

“Lovely.” He shifts, then winces at the after-effects, looking around at the unassuming décor, the emptiness of it.

“They took everything from us,” she says, cocky. “So, I decided to take it back.”

He has to admit, her proud expression at the fact only makes him admire her more immensely.

She’s been willing to do the kinds of things he hadn’t even contemplated in order to protect people. He’d be embarrassed for himself, if he wasn’t so-

“What?” she asks, a little bemused by the intensity of his gaze, as she goes back to putting the supplies back into the medkit.

What should he tell her?  That she’s always somehow more than he ever thought she could be, or that he-

“Now we have to figure out what to do with you,” she goes on, snapping the kit shut.

“What to do with me?” he balks, watching her walk towards the bathroom as he gets up off the bed, slowing down for a moment, then following after her.

“Everyone knows your face,” she answers, pulling out a drawer, putting it all away. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice face-“

He leans against the jamb, watching her. “Everyone knows yours, too.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. “I can protect myself,” she says, then, flicks her eyes up to his, then stands to look him right in the eye.

It’s true.  He doesn’t have powers.  He’s not even an agent at this point.

“You could always protect _me_.”

Her conflicted expression, before she pushes past him back into the room, makes him hopeful.  Bold, even.

“Did you ever want to?” he calls after her. “Protect me?”

She stops and turns her head over a shoulder, but doesn’t turn around to face him.

“Yes.”

 

#

“Phil… _please_ …don’t-“

Like he could _ever_ stop, seeing her like this.

He holds her waist between his hands, watching her come with him inside her, feels her pulsing through his body, and then he can’t hold back anymore.

 _Daisy_.  He doesn’t say it, he feels it.

She falls over him, trying to catch her breath, as he still shudders beneath her, riding it out, then wrapping his arms around her, trying to bury himself against her, gasping.

Her whole body moves when she starts to laugh.

It’s so warm, and so full, he finds himself smiling like…he can’t even remember since when.

“So, what’s for breakfast?” she says, sliding her nose along his neck and up to his face, until she finds his happy mouth.

“Whatever you want,” he says, through his own ragged breaths, still wanting to kiss her. He pushes the strands of hair off her face, damp with sweat, and then kisses her again, the same way he did the first time tonight.

“Mmm,” she kisses, back, raising up her body for a moment, then pauses, putting her finger against his lips. “Is that how you planned to seduce me?”

“ _You_ seduced _me_ ,” he teases.  But, yeah.  His hands skim over her body.  Offering to cook her dinner?  “I was just trying to be useful.”

“You say that like you actually believe it,” she sighs, as he feels his way over the contours of her stomach.

“ _You_ kissed _me_ ,” he reminds her, biting on his bottom lip when his hand cups her breast.

“I did,” she laughs again, and ducks her head down against his shoulder, hiding. “I did.”

They had just been talking in the kitchen, while he was making dinner. Catching up.

He was honestly, just telling her ideas about how to fix up the place.

Then she hugged him, from behind. He wasn't expecting it.

Or her telling him she missed him.  Only, it sounded like, "You make me feel like I'm home."

Just feeling her breathe out into him, while he closed his eyes, not hoping for anything more.

Then, the soft press of her lips against the back of his neck, the groan that it wrestled up from inside of him, and her listening, knowing, following with her hands underneath his shirt until her skin was against his.

He can’t believe they actually sat down and ate, really.

“You said you were hungry,” he reminds her, sliding the short waves of her hair between his fingers.

“I was.”

She says it in a way that makes him pull his head back to meet her eyes, watching her hand slide along his chest, feeling out the line of the scar there as her eyes trace it with her fingers.

“French toast,” he decides. “I think all the ingredients are there.”

“Getting hungry _just_ thinking about it.” He wiggles a little as her thumb traces along the dent at his hip.

“Good.  I like to feel needed.”

“Oh, _I know_.”

He kisses her again. 

Just like he did the first time tonight.


End file.
